Dial S for Stressed
by Dude13
Summary: There's a time and a place for everything, they say...unless you happen to be a phone solicitor on the job. [Oneshot]


**Author's Warning**: Like everything else, this takes place in my series, set up by the events in my first story "More Than My Friend" where the big event is that Frankie adopts Mac as her "little brother". If you haven't read that story yet, I strongly suggest you do so now, or else you might get terribly confused.

Great...just peachy. In a current episode, Mac was a ring-bearer at a cousin's wedding, meaning he does have other family besides his mother and Terrence, which kind of directly counters the storyline I've set up here for my series. Er...so is my writing slightly AU now?

* * *

While she dusted off the marble bust of her grandmother, it appeared that Foster's resident caretaker was calmly focusing all her attention on completing yet another one of her numerous daily tasks. 

At least, except for the fact that while one hand held the feather duster, the other toyed unusually fretfully with the zipper of her jacket. Also, she never seemed to stray more than ten feet away from the nearby table, which she constantly glanced at every few moments or so. Not to mention that she chewed anxiously upon her lower lip so much it looked like she was only moments away from biting the whole thing clean off.

Needless to say, Frances "Frankie" Foster was doing an extremely poor job of attempting to conceal how much of a nervous wreck she truly was at the moment. Despite her best efforts to fight it, the demon of maternal worry had her completely ensnared in its foul clutches, and she honestly felt like if she had to continue to try and endure the parental concern that mercilessly gnawed at her from within any longer, she was going to crack.

As if purposely trying to compound her misery, all the while the young woman mercilessly berated herself without pause. Why didn't she realize the glaring obvious before she had sent Mac off to school earlier that morning? The sluggish way he had been moving, the fact that he barely ate any breakfast, the slightly glazed look she remembered seeing in his eyes…Frankie simply couldn't believe that she didn't piece it all together until it was far too late. Now, what had started as some slight concern had now blown up into the vehement conviction that she had made the immensely horrific error of sending her charge off to school without realizing he was sick.

Now here the worry-stricken young woman found herself trying to atone for her mistake by hovering constantly about the phone, so convinced that Mac was as sick as could be, he would call from the school nurse's office asking her to pick him up. Determined not to make two blunders in one morning, as Frankie worked her way to the stair railings she extra care to make sure she could see the telephone out of the corner of her eye.

Any second now she would get that call, she could practically feel it with every anxiety-stressed fiber of her body. There was absolutely no way Mac's teachers wouldn't notice something was wrong with the ailing child. She just knew it, any moment now he would be dialing for home, and when he did…

_BRRRRRRRRRING_! _BRRRRRRRING_!

This was it; or at least her maternal sixth sense claimed so. The second the chiming ring reached her ears, Frankie instinctively moved like lightning, and in less than an instant she had picked up the phone and without even thinking, started to sputter regretfully.

"I'm sorry pal, I'm sorry!" the guilt-stricken girl practically begged for mercy. "Honest Mac, I never would've let you leave home if I knew you weren't feeling well! Don't worry, I'll be right over in just a few-"

"Um…hello?" a bass, unfamiliar voice inquired confusedly. Once she realized her maternal instincts had been completely wrong, Frankie stopped dead in mid-sentence and immediately turned beet-red.

"Oh…oh, I'm sorry!" she gasped as a mix of embarrassment and disappointment washed over her. "I…I-I've been expecting a phone call from someone all morning, and I just thought-"

"No need to worry, ma'am!" the mysterious caller immediately brushed off the entire misunderstanding with a few cheery words of encouragement. "It was just a little mistake, not a problem."

Although she was genuinely surprised by the oddly swift pardon, Frankie couldn't help but sigh heavily in relief.

"Thank you," she chuckled weakly. "Sorry, it's just my nerves, that's all. I'm just a little…well, never mind, never mind. Anyway, this is Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, Frankie Foster speaking. How can I help you?"

"Actually, it's more of a question of how _I_ can help _you_." The caller went on in the same deceptively sweet fashion, much to her total bewilderment.

"….Excuse me? I don't understand-"

"Ma'am, would you be interested in a yearlong subscription to _The Daily Times_? For only a few dollars a week, you can treat yourself to everything we have to offer, from the news, the scoop on today's sports scene, our…"

As soon as the truth dawned upon her that her hopes had just been dashed by nothing more than a pesky telemarketer, the redhead's lips curled into a fierce snarl, and immediately she savagely hung up, abruptly terminating the conversation.

"_ARRRGH_!" Frankie let loose with a furious howl of aggravation, creating such a commotion it was a wonder more house residents didn't arrive upon the scene of the clamor. With the squeak of oversized basketball shoes, an unusually gangly imaginary friend skidded into the foyer in a flash of crimson.

"What is it? I heard you from the TV room, are you okay?" Wilt demanded worriedly. "What is it? What happened?"

"What happened?" she whirled about and snapped viciously. "Some jerk tried to con me into some garbage I don't need while I'm trying to deal with the fact I sent a sick eight-year-old to school this morning, _that's_ what happened!"

Despite the anger dripping in her tone, Wilt wasn't easily deceived. Once he quickly saw past the rage and spotted the deep concern in her emerald eyes, the towering red thought made sure he stood a safe distance away before inquiring cautiously,

"…Are you stressing out _that_ badly about Mac?"

"How can I _not_ be?" she exploded into a frantic babble. "You saw him at breakfast, he was a total mess! But just because I was too busy cleaning up in the kitchen to take just five seconds to check up on him, the little guy's probably sitting in the nurse's office right now, but he can't get through to me because I have good-for-nothing telemarketing rats trying to make me think I need to…"

As soon as she noticed the dismay stamped upon Wilt's features, it was then that she realized she was needlessly working herself up into a complete frenzy over just one poorly timed phone call. While a fresh blush set her cheeks aglow, Frankie abruptly ended her furious rant and started to take a few long, deep breaths in an attempt to recompose herself. Once he felt like it was safe enough to approach his frazzled friend, Wilt stepped forward, bent over a little and kindly began to pat her on the back to try and help her calm down.

"I'm sorry for snapping…. sorry…." Frankie murmured glumly as she averted her gaze. "It's just…you're right I _have_ been stressing out about this all morning, and-"

"I know, I know." Wilt reminded her gently. "Look, I know you're worried, but-"

"I'm not just worried, I'm wound up tighter than a drum about this." The young woman lamented morosely. "I almost lost it right now simply because-"

"I know." The tall crimson thought repeated as he tried to console her. "Frankie, I know you're concerned about Mac, but I'm sorry, you can't let yourself go to pieces over one telemarketer. It's not going to make Mac call home any sooner, _if_ he is sick, and it's definitely not going to help you out at all, especially if….wait, wait….okay, I'm sorry if I'm being a little harsh here…am I? Is this okay Because I don't want you to take this the wrong way, and if you are, I'm…wait, sorry, I just…"

As the irrepressibly apologetic imaginary friend fumbled over his words, Frankie couldn't help but crack a wan smile and nod reassuringly.

"No, no, you're right." She replied softly. "I'm _really_ going overboard with this whole thing. I think I just need to try and relax…"

Unfortunately, her mouth and brain appeared to be completely disconnected at that point. While she openly pledged to try and get a grip on herself, her mind immediately wandered straight back to Mac. Despite her best efforts to fight it, she suddenly found herself conjuring up heartbreaking mental images of the child, pale and sickly, sitting in a cold, sterile school nurse's office, whimpering softly as he dialed the phone, waited as patiently as he could for someone at home to pick up-

_BRRRRRRRRRING_! _BRRRRRRRING_!

The achingly familiar pangs of guilt had just begun to jab at her before the nearby telephone started to ring. Like a nail driven to a massive magnet, in an instant she vanished from Wilt's side and had the phone in her hands, answering hopefully,

"Hello?"

"Hello!" an almost unreasonably shrill young woman's voice responded in an almost eerily cheerily tone, making her sound reminiscent to a cheerleader with an overdose of school spirit. "I'm Cindy, calling from Cingulerizon Wireless! Would you be interested in learning all about our new family plan? For just fifty dollars a month, you can…"

The telemarketer happily babbled on and on about the fantastic wonders of unlimited texting for family members. Meanwhile Frankie went dumbstruck as the high-pitched squeak on the other end of the line ruthlessly crushed the redhead's hopes that she could finally pick up Mac and cease her painfully incessant fretting. For a few moments, the caretaker just listened wordlessly before infuriation welled up inside her like water about to burst from an active geyser.

Wilt was forced to simply helplessly watch as within an instant, his friend grew flush with annoyance and exploded with fury.

"_Go to hell_!" she snarled, and with this defiant cry she hung up. However, Frankie's severe irritation lasted for less than a moment before she spotted the horrified disbelief written on Wilt's features, waking her to the nasty truth about what just happened.

"Oh, _no_!" the mortified young woman gasped. "I did it _again_, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did!" Wilt replied flatly, not even attempting to sugarcoat his answer. "Frankie, I thought you just told me you were going to calm down!"

"I wasn't lying, honest!" she implored. "It's just…I….I'm sorry, I really don't know what came over me! I actually thought that was going to be Mac calling from-"

"I'm sorry he hasn't called home yet, but it's _not_ okay for you to yell at others like that just because they're doing their jobs!" he countered. "Frankie, you can't go on like this! You _need_ to relax!"

"I want to, but I can't help it!" she protested. "Seriously, I can't! You have any idea what it's like to think you sent an eight-year-old off to school with a fever? Do you?"

"I-" Wilt spluttered, taken aback by the panic in her tone.

"It's unbearable!" Frankie lamented as she pulled at her flaming red locks out of deep frustration. "The guilt just tears you up to the point you want nothing more than that one phone call from the nurses office to end your agony so you can finally…"

While the frantic young woman revealed the true extent of the immeasurable stress she was putting herself through, it soon became plainly obvious to Wilt that scolding her wasn't going to do a smidge of good. Just as it seemed like the worry-stricken redhead was about to hyperventilate, the lanky creature darted over and dropped to his knees in one fluid movement, allowing him to pat her back as he started to sputter comfortingly,

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm sorry I yelled….it's okay, Mac's going to be just fine…c'mon, deep breaths, nice…slow….deep…breaths…"

Frankie quickly followed his advice, and started to gulp in heavy gasps of air as if someone had just tried to drown her. While she struggled desperately to assuage her frazzled nerves, he inquired kindly,

"…You need some water?"

As soon as she nodded, he was off in an instant, dashing to the kitchen in record time. Unfortunately, he had barely turned on the sink when suddenly,

_BRRRRRRRRRING_! _BRRRRRRRING_!

Wilt froze, unsure if he should be alarmed or not as soon as the phone's ringing ceased. Just as soon as he optimistically hoped it was the call they had been waiting for though, a sound akin to the howl of a wounded animal rang out from the direction of the foyer, sending chills down the imaginary friend's spine.

"Survey? _SURVEY_? You seriously want me to tie up the phone line so I can take your goddamn survey?" he could hear Frankie shriek furiously as he whirled about and sprinted back as if the legions of hell were trailing him. Despite his endeavors, he was already too late, and raced back just in time to watch the bristling caretaker holler into the phone,

"You want me to give you answers for the stupid survey? How's _this_ for an answer; bite me!"

"_Frankie_!" Wilt yelped in dismay as she fiercely hung up. The redhead glanced up and only scowled remorselessly.

"What?" she snarled defensively, clearly at wits end by this point. "She was asking for it-"

"Frankie, no! Not okay! _So_ not okay!" the imaginary friend cried, as if he was trying to reprimand a fussy toddler. "I thought we agreed that you can't-"

"I don't care anymore!" she snapped, as the deadly combination of stress, guilt, and worry finally proved to be too much for her to handle. "I'm worried to death about Mac, and I'm tired of being screwed around with by these stupid telemarketers! Why in the world it feels like every one of them wants to call here at this very instant, I-"

"I don't know why either, but this is no way to act!" Wilt protested frantically as he watched the twin fires raging in her eyes. "I'm sorry, but you _need_ to calm down!"

"I tried that, but these creeps won't let me!" she countered while her infamous temper skyrocketed out of control. "All I want to do is know whether I made a mistake sending Mac to school or not, but instead all I'm getting are these scumbags who want to force me to sign up for their stupid wireless plans or buy a subscription to their trashy newspapers or magazines!"

"If you're that upset about the whole thing, then _please_ don't take it out on other people!" Wilt begged shamelessly as he tried to calm her.

"Its not like they don't deserve it!" she hissed defiantly. "If you ask me-"

"Please, Frankie, please!" he only continued to desperately plead. "If you're so worried about Mac, then don't let yourself go to pieces like this waiting over a phone call that might not even come! It's not worth it! I'm sorry, but we don't even know if he's really sick or not! If you can't stand it, then why don't you just go to his school and check up on him yourself? Or…or _something_?"

To his surprise and relief, the desperate, last-ditch plea seemed to do the trick as Frankie spun about and made an immediate beeline for where the bus keys hung on a small hook.

"Fine!" she growled. "You know what, I _will_! Why should I stay here and let every jerk with garbage to sell over the phone have their way with me? If they think I'm gonna-"

"No, wait! Wait!" Wilt cried as he tried to block her way, knowing full too well what a threat she posed when on the warpath. "I'm sorry, didn't mean right now! Frankie, c'mon! Have a glass of tea! A snack? Take a quick walk around the house! Just settle down! You _have_ to settle-"

_BRRRRRRRRRING_! _BRRRRRRRING_!

The gangly imaginary friend immediately tried to dart around Frankie and dash to the phone, but he was no match for the speed granted to her by the power of seething rage. In what felt like less than an instant, she had sprinted over in a blur of emerald and crimson, and without even thinking, she picked up and immediately started to yell,

"Enough! Enough! I've had it up to _here_ with you people! I've had it!" the fuming young woman bellowed ferociously, her face flushed and her lips curled into a snarl so vicious she resembled an angry lioness. "What is it you want to try and get me to buy, punk? Eh? Whatever it is, you can forget it, you worthless slimebag! You just better pray to God that I don't find out where you work, because if I do, I swear I'll-"

"…Frankie?" an-all-too-familiar voice managed to whimper hoarsely through the receiver. Just like that, the young woman's terrible rage was extinguished almost miraculously in an instant. The flames in her eyes died down to mere embers, her snarl vanished as her jaw nearly hit the floor, and a marble white replaced the bloodthirsty red glowing on her face as the color drained from her features.

For a few horrifically awkward moments, Frankie stone frozen as a statue in her mortification, while Wilt watched nearby, flummoxed beyond belief by her radical transformation. Finally though, after what felt like an eternity, she took a hard swallow, and replied ever so softy in an uncontrollable tremor,

"H-hi pal…"

* * *

"…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…pal, honest, if I knew it was you, I would've _never_ meant to… " 

The guilt-wracked caretaker babbled morosely as she entered through the front doors of the Victorian mansion and into the foyer, with Wilt sauntering by her side and a slightly feverish eight-year-old boy in her arms. While the gangly imaginary friend appeared to be simply relieved be back home, Mac oddly but fortunately enough didn't appear to be the least bit traumatized from the earlier "misunderstanding."

However though, judging by the exasperation written on his features, the child looked like he had quite enough of the apologies that had been raining down from his guardian's mouth since she picked him up.

"Frankie, I _told_ you its okay." He whimpered. "You didn't know it was me on the other line, and you were angry because-"

Despite the easily detectable sincerity in the boy's tone, much to his dismay Frankie just started to stroke his head and continued to lament gloomily,

"I should've never let you go to school today, _never_. I'm _so_ sorry about everything today Mac, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"For the _last_ time, it's all right." Mac announced, hugging her neck for good measure. Despite this and an affirming nod from Wilt, the young woman still only looked half-convinced at best that she had been exonerated.

"I….I guess…" she murmured reluctantly with a guilty grimace. As Mac passed Wilt a worried glance, the lanky thought quickly plastered a grin upon his face and hastily tried to lighten her somber mood.

"How about we just put this morning behind us, huh?" he asked encouragingly. "While you go put him to bed, I'll go grab some aspirin from the infirmary and fix some tea….for both of you," he added kindly, after some quick thought. "How about it?"

Frankie found it nearly impossible to remain glum around the irrepressible creature and his trademark toothy grin, and before she knew it, found herself breaking out into a wan smile.

"Yeah…" she agreed softly with a gentle nod. "Sounds like a plan to me. Is that all right with you, pal?"

Once Mac expressed his affirmation with a weak grin, Wilt beamed brighter than ever.

"Great!" he cried enthusiastically. "Now you two head upstairs, and I'll-"

_BRRRRRRRRRING_! _BRRRRRRRING_!

The second the piercing ring reached her ears, Frankie couldn't help but be reminded of her earlier humiliation, and as she replayed the awful moment in her mind, almost immediately the anger started boiling within her. Within moments she was bristling with rage over the injustice, and without even bothering to put Mac down, she darted over to the phone, determined to give those responsible for what happened beforehand a piece of her mind.

Once he saw the ferocious scowl take root upon her face, Wilt burst out yelping frantically as soon as he realized all-too-well what was happening.

"No, Frankie, wait! Settle down! Settle down! Forget about it what happened this morning! No, _not_ again! Not okay, not okay! What about holding your temper? What about-"

However, his desperate pleas fell unto deaf ears, and he was much too slow to catch her. Hopelessly stung by indignant fury, she answered the phone with a ferocious growl.

"Well, I hope you and your lot are happy!" Frankie snarled, while the horrorstruck Wilt watched silently and Mac, expertly cradled in her other arm, observed bemusedly. "Thanks to you and your kind, I nearly scared my own little brother half to death because you rats wouldn't give me a moment's peace! You better thank your lucky stars you didn't call here earlier, but let me tell you this; I honestly don't care who you are, what you're selling, and if you have any idea what I'm talking about, I sincerely hope you or one of your scummy telemarketing buddies gets hit by a speeding bus on the way home-"

As she suddenly went dead silent and turned as pale as a bed sheet, it was almost a classic case of déjà vu for Wilt, except for the fact that the receiver seemed to explode with a furious burst of what sounded suspiciously like scolding. As Frankie's eyes nearly bugged clear from her sockets in outright horror, she hastily hung up, hugged a confounded Mac tightly, and frantically took cover behind her baffled imaginary friend.

"…Frankie?" The litle boy murmured warily with a grimace as Wilt cringed and inquired,

That…th-that wasn't a telemarketer…was it?"

Shaking from head to toe, Frankie glanced up and whined defensively, "I…I-I swear to God, I _totally_ forgot Grandma has her own cell phone…"

**The End **


End file.
